Twist Of Fate
by James018
Summary: What if Harry had met someone else in Madam Malkin's? Will she teach him about the shades of grey that lie between black and white? Will he teach her how to feel and the power of love? Will he learn the ways of Slytherin, and she the ways of Gryffindor?
1. Madam Malkin's

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

I've always liked Harry/Female Slytherin OC fan fictions, both romances (as they often are) and platonic relationships. I like the many different ways in which they can be construed. This particular plot bunny hit me not long ago and I thought I'd see where it takes me. I don't expect this to be a very long story – perhaps 10-15 very short chapters, each containing one scene. But since I'm making this up as I go along, that's subject to change, depending most likely on reader response.

I have probably taken ideas from fanfics I've read at some point or another, so forgive me if my ideas don't seem original. I will try and make this as much so as possible.

**Twist Of Fate**

**Chapter One – Madam Malkin's**

I walk nervously into the shop, _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. I'd never been clothes shopping before, having only ever worn Dudley's overlarge hand-me-downs, and I had no idea what it entailed. So you can forgive me for being a bit nervous. Almost as soon as I enter the shop, I'm accosted by a short, dumpy witch in mauve robes, who I assume is Madam Malkin herself.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asks, pre-empting my own question, and I nod. She's obviously done this hundreds of times before. "Got the lot here – there's a young lady in your year being fitted up right now, in fact."

I'm curious, having not yet met a wizard or witch my own age. Madam Malkin leads me up to the back of the shop, where I see a pretty girl with dark hair and matching eyes standing on a footstool by the wall as another witch – an assistant, I guess – pins up a set of black robes. The girl looks quite bored with proceedings and doesn't seem to even notice my arrival.

Madam Malkin pulls out a second footstool and stands me up on it. She pulls a plain robe over my head and sets to work pinning it up in the same way. For a few moments I just stand there patiently, then I decide to instigate conversation with the girl beside me.

"Hello," I say. "What's your name?"

She doesn't give any response, and for a few seconds I think she isn't going to answer. Then she says, "Daphne. Daphne Greengrass."

For a second I consider telling her my name, but I think better of it, remembering the reactions of the wizards and witches in the Leaky Cauldron, and not wanting to get mobbed again.

Instead, I say, "So you're going to Hogwarts, too?"

Again she doesn't reply straight away, and I wonder briefly if she has some weird delayed reaction disorder. "Yes," she replies at last.

I wait for a minute but she doesn't say anything else, and I give up, deciding she must just not like talking. Madam Malkin tells me to put my back flat up against the wall, and I comply. Then, just when I'd almost forgotten she was there, the girl unexpectedly speaks up.

"Are you Muggleborn, then?"

I've never heard the term before. I can guess what it means, but I'd rather not risk being wrong or having misheard.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.

"Your family," says the girl, "are they magical or not?" Her voice has a dull, bored monotone to it, despite the fact that it's her asking the question.

I turn my head as far as I can without disturbing Madam Malkin, and can just make out the girl in my peripheral vision, though I can't see her clearly because of my glasses. As far as I can tell, she hasn't so much as moved since I entered the room other than to speak to me.

"Sort of," I say in answer to her question. "My parents were magical, but they're dead. I live with my aunt and uncle, they're Muggles."

"Oh," says Daphne. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I tell her, not wanting the conversation to end now I had her talking. "I don't remember them. They died when I was one."

Daphne doesn't reply, but I catch movement in the corner of my eye and I get the feeling something I said must have interested her in some way.

"Why'd you ask?" I ask her.

I'm not sure what to expect, and am pleasantly surprised when she answers my question almost immediately.

"My mother and father think you shouldn't be allowed to go to Hogwarts if you don't have magical parents," she says. "They think you're not really a witch or wizard if your parents aren't."

I frown. "That doesn't sound very fair," I tell her, speaking my mind. "Do all wizards think that? It sounds like a magical version of racism."

"You mean how Muggles believe that people with white skin are better than people with black skin?" asks Daphne.

"Not all Muggles do!" I say hotly. I'd started to wonder exactly how different this world was from the one I'd grew up in, if they seemed to know so little about Muggles. "But yeah, that's what I mean."

A pause. Then – "I suppose you're right," Daphne says. "And not all wizards think Muggleborns are inferior either. But a lot of the important and powerful ones do, so you probably shouldn't go around telling the wrong people what you think."

My impression of the wizarding world becoming less and less favourable, I can only say, "Thanks for the advice." Then, curiously, I ask her, "What do you think?"

She doesn't reply straight away and for a minute all I hear is the rustling of the two sets of robes. Then Daphne says, "I don't know yet. And I really don't care. My opinion isn't going to change the world."

I think about arguing, but before I can say a word, Madam Malkin pulls down the robe, saying "That's you done, my dear."

I turn to Daphne, who I find is now looking sideways at me. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, then, I guess," I say to her, hopping off the footstool.

After taking a couple of steps I hear a voice behind me. "I never did catch your name."

I freeze for a second and then turn back around to face Daphne. "It's Harry," I say, a little more coolly than I intended. "Harry Potter."

To my relief, Daphne doesn't react nearly as much as the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron did. For a split second I see her eyes widen, and then she's back to normal, calm and composed. "Then I'll see you at Hogwarts, Potter," she echoes my earlier statement.

"Bye, Daphne," I say. I can't help noticing that she seems more surprised at me using her first name than she did when she found out mine.

I pay for my new robes and then leave, all the time mulling over my strange conversation with the girl, and what I'd learned from it.

"Hagrid," I say, accepting the chocolate and raspberry ice cream he hands to me outside the shop, "do wizards really believe people from Muggle families shouldn't be allowed…?"

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think. I'm still quite new to this and am looking for ways to improve. I also want to know what the general consensus is on my writing style (first person, present tense). I'm happy to go back and rewrite it if it's too hard to read.


	2. The Train

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, and nor do I pretend to. Note that some quotes will be taken directly from or paraphrased from the books.

**Twist Of Fate**

**Chapter Two – The Train**

Tentatively I walk from compartment to compartment. Anyone else would have found it impossible to navigate through the crowd thronging from one place to another within the train, but I've got plenty of years' experience on my side, having had to find ways to escape Dudley's sight for long enough for his short attention span to wander someplace else. And my small, skinny frame probably helps too – no one would notice the dark-haired midget with glasses squeezing between a couple of older students.

I'd left my trunk in the compartment where the red-haired twins, Fred and George, had helped me lift it, trusting that anyone who entered would notice someone else was already sitting there and, at the very least, save me a seat. Now I'm searching, discreetly I hope, for the dark-haired girl I'd met in the clothes store in Diagon Alley – Daphne Greengrass.

I can't exactly understand why I'm looking for her. It wasn't as if she was overly friendly when we'd met in Madam Malkin's. In fact, thinking back on it, I'm quite sure that, at least at first, she had gone out of her way to _not_ be friendly. But – why, I couldn't understand – but she interests me. Perhaps because she was the first witch (or wizard) my age that I'd met, but it seemed deeper than that. It was more that she represents everything I didn't know or understand about the wizarding world.

I suppose I could kind of understand (though never sympathise, obviously) why wizards looked down on Muggles. It was, like I'd noted in Madam Malkin's, just like racism, sexism – basically anything-ism, thinking anything different to the 'norm' was somehow inferior or unworthy. When I'd asked Hagrid about it afterward he said something to the effect of "Ah, tha's just a few morons, don' worry about 'em too much," but I got the sense he was playing it down more than a bit, probably because I was an eleven-year-old kid. While on the other hand, Daphne had warned me about talking about my views too publicly.

So it comes down to two possibilities: either many powerful wizards really believe in their pure-blood superiority, or they're too cowardly to speak up for the opposite. I bite my lip. Either way, I'm not overly impressed with the wizarding world so far.

"Hey, Potter."

I jump almost a foot in the air and turn around, to see Daphne standing in the doorway to the compartment behind me. I must have missed her while lost in thought.

"Hi, Daphne," I greet her in return.

Daphne frowns and raises an eyebrow. She seems confused for some reason. "Why do you insist on calling me that?" she asks.

Now I'm confused. Doesn't she like her name? I ask, and receive a pointed look that as best as I can tell indicates something to the effect of "are you an idiot?" She changes the subject, however.

"Any particular reason you're wandering the train? There are empty compartments at the back, in the direction you came from."

I nod. I know that already. "I was looking for you, actually."

Will wonders never cease? Even _that _surprises her. "Why? We're not exactly friends," she says bluntly. Coming from anyone else that statement would sting, but I can tell already that Daphne isn't precisely the friendly type, so I let it slide.

"Why not? You're the only one here that I've met before," I respond, and then something crosses my mind and I decide to turn the tables on her. "And besides, you came out to talk to me, didn't you?"

Daphne lets it go. "Well, you wanted to talk to me first. What about?"

Oh, she's good. And it's a valid question. What _do_ I want to say to her? After hesitating for a moment, I remember what I was thinking about before she jumped me, and decide that's as good a topic as any.

"I was thinking about something you said to me back in the shop, actually… About how some wizards and witches think wizarding parentage is important and Muggleborns shouldn't be allowed, and how I shouldn't go around contradicting them for my own sake." Daphne stares at me. "How much of that is powerful wizards having their own way and how much is people like me not being brave enough to stand up for what we think?"

Daphne furrows her brow. "Good question, Potter," she says. I don't know what I was expecting, probably for her to make me feel like a moron again. This certainly wasn't it. I'm pleased but also a little annoyed. The more I try to figure out Daphne, the more questions I get.

Daphne still hasn't answered me, and I consider speaking up about it, but I get the feeling she's just trying to figure out the best way to put her answer. Moments later I'm proven right. "There isn't really an easy answer, Potter… I guess no one really knows for sure. The best way I can put it is it's just the way it's been done. People in the old families have always seen themselves as superior to other wizards and witches, and then by extension Muggles and Muggleborns are at the bottom of the scale. And since there was no one really able to challenge them, they became our government, the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot –" I nearly snort at the funny name, but stop myself just in time, "– and it's basically stayed the way ever since."

"So anyone from a long-standing wizard family probably thinks Muggles are the scum of the earth?" I clarify.

Daphne nods grimly. "There are exceptions to the rule, like the Weasleys, who basically haven't got any credibility at all with most pureblood families because they see the Muggles as equals. And then some families have started to die out, probably because of inbreeding. Some have started marrying Muggles to stay alive. But yes, most of our government is full of purebloods who see Muggles – and anyone else less than them, really – as little more than animals."

"Alright," I say. "So to sum up, the wizard government is full of pureblood bigots, most of the people outside the Ministry and – what did you call it – the Wizengamot –" (Daphne nods) "– are okay, but they don't speak up because it's not a good idea to go up against the government and expect to win."

Daphne nods again. "That's fairly accurate. The other problem is You-Know-Who – who I'm sure you're acquainted with," she smirks at me. "There are rumours – not sure if it's true – that he's still around but has lost his powers and is waiting until one of his old servants finds him so he can return. While he was around, he was terrible – he and his followers all believed in pureblood superiority and weren't afraid to show it by torturing and killing Muggles as little more than a pastime." She shudders, something I can tell is pretty uncharacteristic for Daphne. "Some of his biggest wizarding targets were those who openly supported Muggles and Muggleborns, and he got a lot of them. Not many people want to be on his hit list if he comes back."

"And where do you and your family fit into all this?" I ask her quietly.

Daphne recoils slightly, and I know straight away that I've pushed too far. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me," I say hastily.

Daphne takes a deep breath, looking pointedly away from me, and she takes then another. Finally she looks back at my face. "No, it's okay," she says at last, surprising me yet again. "You probably should know…" She breathes in again. "My parents both are from old wizarding families. My mother is on the Wizengamot, Father works for the Ministry. Adviser to the Minister himself." She pauses to compose herself, then continues. "Both of them believe in pureblood supremacy… though they're not that vocal, so I guess it's possible they're just going along with it so they don't get in trouble. It's what I'd do…"

She trails off with a sigh, and I feel a stab of sympathy for her. She couldn't control who she was born to, I reason. Who was I to judge? I decide against saying that, though, because who knew how she'd take it? I'd come close to putting my foot in my mouth often enough already.

I hear a whistle blow, and notice the train's starting to get very full. I glance down the train in the direction of my compartment, and think we can't be more than five minutes away from leaving. Daphne seems to have the same idea.

"See you around, Potter," she says, stepping back towards her compartment.

I'm starting to think it's a wizarding thing, calling people by their surnames – but what I theoretically don't know can't hurt me. "Later, _Daphne,_" I say with a slight smile and a heavy emphasis on the final word, and as she disappears out of sight, I'm sure I hear a faint snicker.

I quickly make my way back towards my compartment. I arrive just as the train begins moving, to find that it's still empty. As I sit in one of the window seats, I ponder the new information I'd learnt from this girl, Daphne Greengrass, both about wizards in general and about herself. One question is nagging at me – why did she tell me so much? It's not as if she seemed to like me, though I did get the feeling she was thawing a bit.

Either way, I decide, I wanted to get to know Daphne Greengrass better. As I make this resolution, the compartment door slides open to reveal the red-haired boy – Rob, or something – who had gone through the barrier with me onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asks a little breathlessly, pointing to the seat opposite me. "Everywhere else is full…"

A/N: Sorry it's been so long! Unfortunately I can't make any promises for regular updates for this fic or my other, No Ordinary Class. Not for the next month anyway, until exams are over – then I'll have all the time in the world!

I do want to apologise for those who noticed it: both Harry and Daphne are acting probably a bit too mature for eleven year olds in the way they speak and (in Harry's case) think. That's slightly intentional on Daphne's part, considering her character, but reading it over it still seems a bit too much. That said, I will say something in my defence. Has anyone else noticed how BLOODY hard it is, as a late teenager or adult, to write pre-teen children accurately? JKR was wonderful in that regard, one of many reasons why I admire her as a writer.

Please review! I'm mostly making this up as I go along, so questions and ideas are much appreciated! I particularly want to know, how should I develop Harry and Daphne's relationship? I'm assuming most readers will want a romance, but how should it happen, how soon, how quickly should it develop, etc.? Thank you all so much!


End file.
